


The Morning Sun

by watchcatewrite



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Trench (Album), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury Recovery, Tenderness, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchcatewrite/pseuds/watchcatewrite
Summary: A woman leading the Banditos had surprised her when she first arrived in Trench. But after hearing the way Jos spoke to her Banditos Tyler understood.She would have followed her anywhere.
Relationships: Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	The Morning Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I just needed to write something tender and loving.

Tyler hardly dares to breathe the entire trek out of Dema and back to camp. It’s a route she’s taken multiple times now, one that feels like coming home. But there’s always that feeling, the one that makes the hair on the back of her neck prickle, that it could all be ripped away from her again. Jos isn’t there to lead the pack this time, and it worries Tyler more than she’s let on. It’s strange to not see her familiar green hoodie at the front of the line, torches flickering in the darkness. 

They’re maybe two miles out when the alarm moves through the ranks. The scout up ahead has spotted someone on their trail. Without a word they scatter, disappearing into brush and behind rocks. Guilt fills Tyler’s mind: this is her fault, they’ve come for her, she’s led them straight to them. While most run for the closest hiding spot she takes off in the opposite direction of the camp, a desperate bid to draw them away from the group. 

As she runs she can’t be sure if the hoof beats drawing closer are real, or her own panicked mind trying to spur her further, faster. When she hits the cliff face she doesn’t stop, digging fingers into crevices until her nails are torn and bloody. Tyler thinks the hoof beats might have faded, but it’s hard to tell over her heart pounding in her ears. Her arms burn with the effort of pulling herself up, never stopping to think, only focusing on the next move, the next toehold that will get her up and over. 

When she reaches the top Tyler rolls over the edge and lays on her back, gasping. The sky is growing lighter above her head, the dark blue of night fading to burnt orange. Tyler watches the vultures fly through her line of sight, not stopping to hover over her on their way. She’s not dead yet, even they know it. When there’s no longer a ringing in her ears, and her heart feels slower in her chest, Tyler finally pulls herself to her feet. 

The call is low, carried on the wind and echoing through the canyon. “Sahlo folina.”

Tyler whips around as though the voice is right behind her, trying to find its source, but sees only an unfamiliar landscape. She’s been too successful at her goal: she’s drawn the Bishop from the camp but left herself in unknown territory. Tyler glances back up at the sky but it’s too late, the North Star is already gone, lost in the growing light of the morning. She turns to look over her shoulder at the rising sun instead, her new guide. 

_ East is up.  _

Her hands begin to ache as she walks. Tyler tries to convince herself not to look, but eventually she can’t fight it anymore. Her palms and fingers are crusted with dried blood, her fingernails torn and her skin rough. She tries to make a fist and hisses from the pain. If the Bishop catches her again she’ll be truly defenseless, unable to fight back. Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembers Jos wrapping her hands before they sparred, laughing at Tyler’s insistence that they were too soft, that she needed Jos’ help to toughen them up. 

The sun gets higher in the sky as she walks, the landscape changing around her. Tyler finally starts to notice things she remembers, a bluff with the shadow of a scout above her, a patch of flowers that always felt hopeful to her, a reminder that she was heading somewhere safe. It’s still too early to see the glow of the campfires, and Tyler can’t see any smoke. They’re probably still being cautious, knowing that the Bishops are looking for them. They won’t light the fires unless the absolutely have to. 

At some point her steps become monotonous, a constant thudding that matches the beating of her heart in her ears. Tyler hums to herself gently, trying to fill the silence with something other than fear. Her mind can’t focus on much for long, those familiar voices whispering in the back of her head.  _ They’re coming. They’ll catch you. You’ll never escape.  _ Tyler watches the vultures pass over her, continuing to their final destination. She’s still not dead yet. 

The sun’s beginning to dip lower toward the horizon when Tyler finally crests the last ridge. She can barely make out the shape of the camp, closer but still far. She wonders if they’ve seen her yet, if someone’s sent up the alarm. Tyler can almost hear the quickly moving feet, Jos’ even tone directing them all. Tyler had never felt calmer in her life than when she heard Jos’ voice. A woman leading the Banditos had surprised her when she first arrived in Trench. But after hearing the way Jos spoke to her Banditos Tyler understood. 

She would have followed her anywhere. 

When she’s maybe fifty paces out Tyler starts to see a crowd forming, faces glancing around shoulders and pressing up against each other. Some she recognizes, some she barely knows, each of them watching her. Tyler wonders again if she’s made a mistake, if she never should have come back. Each time she walks into this camp she wonders if it’ll be her last, if she’ll bring a destruction down on them she’ll never be able to atone for. Maybe she’s better off in Nico’s clutches. 

“Tyler!”

The voice is unmistakable. Tyler watches as a slight form breaks through the pack, as a familiar green sweatshirt pushes through bodies. They let her pass and then Jos is running, long brown curls trailing behind her as she draws closer and closer to Tyler. She can’t help it, as soon as Tyler sees her tears spring to her eyes, heavy and stinging. Her feet finally come to a stop, and Tyler feels she could collapse under the weight. But then Jos is there, wrapping her up in her arms, pulling the other woman tight against her body, and Tyler nearly sobs with relief. 

Tyler buries her face in the familiar smell of her, hands fisting in Jos’ sweatshirt, the pain suddenly gone. It’s all Tyler can do to pull her closer, to feel Jos pressed against her, to know that she’s safe. She lets out a small cry that’s swallowed into the fabric of Jos’ sweatshirt. The other woman presses her face to Tyler’s neck, her breath warm on her skin, and Tyler tries to keep from crying. This is her home. Jos is her home. 

“I thought they caught you.” Jos’ voice is a whisper, pressed into her skin like a kiss. “When you weren’t with the group I thought—“

Tyler pulls at her more tightly, though there’s no room left between them. Her hands ache with the effort and Tyler suddenly remembers. Even as her adrenaline starts to ebb, and the pain returns, Tyler doesn’t let go, unwilling to give the other woman up. She doesn’t know how long they stay like that, how long they’re wrapped around each other. It could be moments, or maybe years. Time moves strangely when the two of them are together. 

Jos finally pushes back, pulling Tyler’s head from her neck with strong hands. Their eyes meet and Jos can finally see the tears resting there, too stubborn to fall. She reaches with one hand to rub at the shorn hair covering Tyler’s scalp. It had been a release to shave her head the first time she’d come to Trench, and Tyler had continued. Each time she was dragged back to Dema the Bishops scoffed, bemoaning her lost beauty, but Tyler didn’t care. From the first moment the clippers had touched her scalp she’d felt more free than she ever had in her life. 

“Are you okay?” It seems like such a silly question, whispered between the two of them as Jos cradles Tyler’s head between her hands. 

Tyler shakes her head slowly, pulling her hands from Jos’ back. Jos sucks in a breath when she sees them, releasing Tyler’s face to take hold of her wrists gently. She slips an arm over Tyler’s shoulders, pulling the other woman against her again. Tyler leans on her as they begin to walk, Jos supporting her weight easily. She hadn’t realized how slight she’d grown in Dema, how strong Jos remained. 

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up.”

Jos takes Tyler to Jos’ own tent instead of the healer’s, depositing Tyler gently on her bed before moving around the tent to gather supplies. After placing the bowl of water next to them Jos reaches for Tyler’s hands, and Tyler flinches away without thinking. Even now Tyler’s not used to people caring for her. She’s bandaged her own wounds, sewn her own stitches for so long that she forgets what it’s like for someone to touch her with tenderness instead of malice. But Jos is patient, and she moves slowly. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” She moves like Tyler is a wounded animal, trying to keep from frightening her. This time, when Jos reaches slowly for Tyler’s wrist, Tyler doesn’t move away. “There you go. You’re okay.”

Tyler believes her, she knows that Jos would never hurt her. Still, when the warm, wet cloth touches her mangled fingers Tyler lets out a hiss. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Jos’ voice is quiet, as gentle as her hands. “I just have to get them clean first and then we’ll wrap them up okay?”

Tyler doesn’t answer. She’s already starting to feel exhaustion pulling at her, that warm feeling she gets around Jos blooming in her chest. She’s too tired to think too hard about her feelings for Jos, to complicate them with names. Tyler had spent the last three months in Dema thinking about the other woman, dreaming about an outstretched hand, calling her home. Now that she was here all Tyler could focus on was the feeling of safeness, as Jos’ worn hands carefully bandaged her own. She was finally home. 

“There.” Jos finishes the tie on her second hand. Tyler vaguely notes that the bandages are expertly wrapped, a weaving pattern of white gauze. 

She hums, her eyes already drooping. Tyler feels her jacket fall from her shoulders, her hands guided gently through the arm holes. It’s tossed into a corner of the tent, the grey seeming out of place amongst the warm green and yellow of Jos’ home. She realizes Jos’ hands are at the hem of her shirt the same moment she hears a soft “come on” from the other woman. Tyler lifts her arms dutifully and lets Jos pull her shirt over her head like a child. She should be embarrassed to appear so weak and needy, but instead Tyler’s warmed by the feeling of being cared for. 

Jos’ hands linger over her arms, fingers tracing raised skin. Tyler opens her eyes just enough to see sadness on the other woman’s face, in the tightness of her lips and the wrinkles of her forehead. Jos’ eyes are still focused on Tyler’s skin, and Tyler surprises her by covering Jos’ hand with her own. She gives the long fingers a squeeze, trying to raise her lips in a smile. Jos shouldn’t worry about her. She has so many more important things to worry about. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay now.”

“Tyler…” Her voice trails off and Tyler can hear tears in the way she swallows audibly. “We should have come sooner.”

“It’s okay, Jos. I’m okay. I’m here.” Tyler’s tongue feels unwieldy, her words coming out slurred. 

Even moments from sleep she can tell Jos wants to say more, but she doesn’t. Instead she reaches for something behind her, Tyler letting out a sigh as warm, soft clothing is pulled down over her head. Jos guides her arms through the arms of the sweatshirt, carefully pulling her hands through at the bottom. Tyler hums, leaning against her softly, her nose buried in the curls at the top of Jos’ head. The comforting smell of Jos is all around her, and Tyler feels drunk with it. 

Jos’ fingers move to her boots, untying them deftly and pulling them from Tyler’s feet. Her pants are the next thing to go, set to join the growing pile of grey in the corner of Jos’ tent. They look out of place in a space filled with so much warmth, where Tyler can feel Jos’ kindness in every corner. A cold reminder of Dema. Jos pulls Tyler to her feet as the pants slide down, helping her out of each leg as she supports Tyler’s weight against her. Tyler feels the hem of the sweatshirt dip lower, covering her underwear and the tops of her thighs. It’s soft and familiar. 

Jos leads her back down onto the bed, gently tipping her sideways and easing her onto the pillow. It also smells like her and Tyler lets out another content hum as Jos tucks her feet into the blanket. Tyler’s eyes are already closed, half in and out of sleep, when she feels Jos’ hand brush across her brow. It continues up into her hair, moving over the shorn strands until it settles against the back of her neck. Tyler lets out a deep breath, more comfortable than she’s been in months, even with the hard ground below her. 

“Stay with me.” Tyler whispers, barely aware she’s saying it. 

There’s rustling and then Tyler can feel Jos’ body pressed up against hers beneath the blanket. The hand is back on her forehead, a finger tracing gently over her eyebrows. It dips down her cheek, more fingers joining it, a thumb brushing gently against her skin. Tyler hums again, and the soft pad of a finger is pressed to her lip. It moves over bitten and worried skin, tracing the small smile that Tyler can’t help. Her body runs on instinct in her final moments before sleep, an arm reaching out to settle over Jos’ middle, pulling the other woman close. 

The last thing Tyler remembers before falling asleep, is the gentle press of lips to her forehead. 

* * *

Tyler feels like she’s suffocating, the water rising slowly around her, hands pressed to the cool glass encasing her. Somewhere in her mind she knows it’s not real, another of the Bishops’ tricks, but her body can’t be convinced. Her legs thrash about, trying to get any kind of purchase on the glass, trying to push herself up above the rising water line. Her hands are fists against the clear surface, connecting with all her strength but nothing yields. She’s gonna die like this. She’ll never see Jos again. Just another nameless grave on the outskirts of the city. 

She screams and her whole body feels like it’s on fire, Nico’s lash kissing her skin over and over. He doesn’t even ask her questions anymore, doesn’t care what she thinks, just wants her to hurt. Tyler begs for forgiveness, promises to do whatever they ask just please. Please make it stop. The stinging at her back is ceaseless, and Tyler feels herself on the edge of unconsciousness. She’ll never make it back to her. Never escape this city again. 

“Tyler.”

The voice is faint, but Tyler grabs hold of it like a life preserver, trying to draw herself up from the tumultuous waves of her mind. 

“Tyler.” 

She’s so close, she can feel the sun on her face, see hands reaching out to pull her to safety. 

“Tyler.”

She wakes with a start, tears wet on her cheeks. 

“Shh, shh it’s okay. I’m right here.” 

Jos’ hands are warm on her face, thumbs brushing under her eyes to catch the tears before they fall. Tyler takes a shuddering breath as the other woman’s face comes into focus, freckles dusting the slope of her nose, brown eyes warm and endless. A sobs escapes her lips as Jos pulls her closer, cradling Tyler’s head against her chest. Tyler’s mangled fingers try desperately to grab onto the familiar fabric of Jos’ sweatshirt, the pain a dull ache. Jos makes soothing noises against the soft prickle of her hair, and Tyler tries to catch her breath. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.”

Tyler repeats the words in her head, tries to make them feel true. She can still feel the water filling her lungs, hear the sound of hoofbeats behind her. There’s a part of her that feels like she’ll never truly be free of the city, no matter how far she runs. But she keeps trying. That has to count for something right? It has to be some sign that she’s more than what they think she is. That she’s worth more. 

Jos keeps whispering to her and Tyler’s breaths slowly grow more regular. She doesn’t pull her face from Jos’ chest, allowing herself a few more moments of weakness, even as her heartbeat finally begins to slow. Jos’ hand rubs gently over the back of Tyler’s neck, cradling it and supporting her. Tyler lets herself feel safe, just for a moment, even if part of her knows it can’t last. Jos’ fingers scrape over her scalp slowly and Tyler lets out a hum. She can almost hear the relief in Jos’ exhale, as both of them begin to relax against each other. 

“I’m sorry.” Tyler’s voice is rough from lack of use. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay. You don’t have to be sorry, Tyler.” Jos pulls her more tightly against her, and Tyler’s hands grow tight in her sweatshirt. 

“You should have just left me there. You have more important things to worry about.”

“Shh.” Jos’ voice is insistent. “Stop that.”

“Jos—“

“No, Tyler.” Tyler doesn’t raise her head to see the hardness in Jos’ eyes, but her chest rumbles with it below Tyler’s cheek. “Stop talking like that.”

They’re quiet for a few moments, the only sound the quiet rise and fall of their chests. Tyler’s barely aware that her breathing has synced up with Jos’, that both of them are breathing softly in unison. When Tyler feels like she can’t stand the darkness anymore she leans her head back, Jos’ hand still on the back of her neck. The other reaches up to wipe a few lingering tears from Tyler’s cheek, and Jos smiles at her gently. 

“Let me look at your hands.”

Tyler’s moment of weakness is forgotten, but Jos’ insistence sits heavy in her chest. Every time she puts the other woman at risk,  _ every time _ she puts the other Banditos at risk. She’s still not sure why the leader cares for her so much, why she seeks Tyler out, why she keeps her close. Somewhere Tyler knows she’s been in love with her since she first saw Jos on the cliff, as those yellow petals floated around her, telling her she’d finally made it. Jos is the sun, the North Star, everything fearfully and wonderfully made. Tyler is no one. 

She releases the fabric at Jos’ back with a wince, pulling her hands back around until they rest between both of their bodies. Jos touches them gently, turning them this way and that as she checks the bandages. “I should change these.”

Tyler nods slowly, following Jos as she pulls herself up to sitting. When Jos rises from the bed to gather supplies Tyler can’t help the blush that breaks out over her cheeks. Jos is dressed similarly to her, a long sweatshirt hitting her about mid thigh, but otherwise free of clothing. It makes Tyler suddenly more aware of her own lack of dress, and she pulls the blanket of the bed roll around her more tightly. Jos doesn’t seem to notice her sudden bashfulness, dropping back down to the ground in front of her with the bowl of water and fresh bandages. 

It still feels strange to sit motionless, as Jos slowly unwraps and cleans her hand. Her fingers are still a tattered mess, but the skin looks less angry this morning, more delicate pink than violent red. Jos’ hands move as though they’ve done this many times before, washing each digit carefully before smoothing ointment over the skin, wrapping Tyler’s hand in a dizzying pattern when she’s finished. Tyler’s silent as Jos gently places Tyler’s right hand back in her lap, before reaching for the left one. 

“You’re good at this.” It’s a statement, but even Tyler hears the question underneath. There’s quiet for a few moments longer, and Tyler wonders if she’s asked too much of the other woman. 

“Sacarver likes physical reminders that our bodies are not our own. That the only real choice we have is whether or not to die.” Jos’ voice is low, her hands unwrapping the second set of bandages. “The fights are a good reminder, and there’s always people who need reminding. The point is to lose really, though he’d never frame it that way. There’s considerably less fanfare when you tap out, even less when you win. No one ever really wins.”

Jos’ hands are still gentle, slowly cleaning Tyler’s fingers and applying the ointment, though Tyler can see a hardness in her eyes as she begins wrapping them again. 

“I needed a lot of reminders.”

Tyler watches her fingers, noticing for the first time the way some of her fingernails club like they’ve grown back incorrectly. The small scars in between some of them, on the sides of one of her thumbs, where pins have been placed and removed. Jos has always been one of the toughest fighters in the camp, and Tyler had taken a few head-ringing punches from the woman herself. She’d always assumed it was training she’d received outside of Dema’s walls, in order to survive in the wildness of Trench. But maybe it had been training for a different kind of survival. 

When she’s done Jos places Tyler’s other hand in her lap, before leaning back to rest on her heels. Tyler doesn’t think about it much, just turns slightly to show the other woman her back, hiking the sweatshirt up until her skin is visible. Long welts cover her back, some just barely reaching her hips, but all long-since healed. Tyler’s facing the nylon wall of the tent so she can’t see the other woman’s face, but she still hears Jos’ sharp intake of breath. Tyler startles as a fingertip gently connects with her skin, before settling. Jos’ touch is tender, warm, and Tyler focuses on the feeling of it trailing over her skin. 

“Every time they brought me back Nico asked me questions. About you, the camp. If I was still a believer.” Tyler chuckles quietly, but it sounds rough even to her ears. “He didn’t always like my answers.”

“Tyler.” The word is so quiet, so full of sadness, that Tyler turns to face her like there’s no other option, letting the hem of her sweatshirt fall. 

Jos’ eyes are wet at the corners, focused on where her hands are now clenched in her lap. “You should have just told him. I’m not worth that pain I—“

This time it’s Tyler who stops her, bandaged fingers reaching out to cover her hands. “Stop.”

There's quiet again, both of them breathing in sync. Tyler wonders if even when she’s in Dema, and Jos is in Trench, when miles spread out between them, if their chests rise and fall as one. Sometimes late at night, when the wind howls through the buildings, she thinks she can hear an echo inside her ribs, another heart beating in time with hers. If she could, she’d carry Jos’ heart around with her. She’d keep it safe. 

“Jos, you’re the only one worth any of this.” Tyler’s voice feels heavy, but she knows if she doesn’t say these words she’ll never feel light again. “If my death belongs to the Bishops, then my life belongs to you.”

Tyler doesn’t realize it's a declaration of love until the words have left her mouth. It felt like the natural thing to say, the only way to assure Jos that Tyler didn’t blame her for what she’d experienced. Tyler didn’t think about needing a reply, or needing Jos to consider the words at all, only that they needed to be said. But now they hung between them, like Tyler expected them to be reciprocated, and she felt sick to her stomach. She didn’t expect that of Jos, couldn’t expect that. Look at everything Jos had done, everything she’d survived, everything she’d built. She deserved more than Tyler. 

“Tyler.” The word feels like a caress against her skin, and Tyler’s not surprised when Jos brings one of her hands up to cradle Tyler’s cheek. 

They both lift their heads to look at each other, and Tyler can still see tears in the corners of Jos’ eyes. Her bandaged fingers are considerably more clumsy than Jos’ had been, but with some effort Tyler carefully brushes them from the other woman’s cheek, before returning her hands to Jos’ lap. 

“You don’t have to say anything I— I didn’t mean to—“

“Tyler.” Jos’ eyes are focused on Tyler’s as she says it again, and Tyler feels a shiver go down her spine. 

Tyler watches as she leans forward slowly, her eyes falling closed just as she presses her lips to Tyler’s. It’s warm and sweet, with a tenderness that makes Tyler want to cry. Jos cups Tyler’s cheek gently as she deepens the kiss, and Tyler’s mangled hands squeeze softly at the hand still in Jos’ lap. Tyler can feel Jos smile against her lips as she pulls the other hand from her grasp, cradling Tyler’s face between them. Tyler’s hands cup her upper arms, unwilling to lose her grip on the other woman completely. 

Jos pulls back, her lips leaving Tyler’s but her forehead resting against hers. “Is this okay?”

Tyler shivers at her voice in the quiet, her head nodding gently. It was more than okay, it was a dream Tyler didn’t think she deserved. Jos leans back in, her lips meeting Tyler’s again, and Tyler lets out a small hum. Jos’ tongue plays gently with her bitten bottom lip, and Tyler doesn’t even think before opening her mouth to allow it entry. Jos doesn’t push, doesn’t take, just gives until Tyler feels breathless and dizzy with it. She never thought she could feel so good, so loved. 

Jos starts to lean on her slowly, easing them back against the bed roll. When Tyler’s head hits the pillow she asks again. “Is this okay?”

Tyler nods and Jos’ hand moves from her cheek, cupping the back of her neck. Her hands tighten in Jos’ sweatshirt and Tyler ignores the pain, trying to pull Jos tighter against her. The other woman seems to take the hint, lowering her body until she’s resting on top of her. Tyler can feel the warmth of her skin through the blanket, where their thighs are pressed against each other. Jos kisses over her chin softly and down her neck, sucking gently at the delicate skin where her neck just touches her collarbone. 

Tyler’s breath hitches, her hands tightening in the fabric covering Jos’ arms, and Jos asks again. “Is this okay?”

This time Tyler’s voice fills the space between them, quiet and desperate. “Please, Jos. Please touch me.”

The hand that was at Tyler’s neck moves slowly down her chest, as Jos’ lips return to the spot she’d already worried into Tyler’s skin. Warm fingertips slip over her thighs and under the hem of the sweatshirt, until they come to rest over Tyler’s stomach. Tyler feels like they could burn everything they touched and she’d happily welcome the fire, a deep ache settling low in her body. Jos’ hand slips to her back, covering the scars there and warming them with her touch. Tyler tries not to cry as she’s touched with such tenderness, such love. 

“Jos.” Tyler whispers it against the side of Jos’ head, Jos’ lips still covering the skin of her neck and face in gentle kisses. 

Jos’ hand seems to follow Tyler’s unspoken plea, fingertips moving to the waistband of her underwear and stopping. Jos lifts her head to meet Tyler’s eyes, her blown pupils surrounded by a warm, golden brown. 

“Is this okay?”

Tyler nods, her hands leaving Jos’ arms to cradle the other woman’s face. “Please Jos.”

They both know what she’s asking for, as their lips meet again.  _ Touch me gently, softly. Touch me not with hate, with disgust, but with tenderness. Reverence. Make me believe that I’m worthy of you. Worthy of love. _ It’s everything Tyler’s too scared to say, everything Jos wants to make her understand. 

Jos’ hand moves beneath Tyler’s underwear slowly, cupping her. Tyler’s never felt more safe in her entire life, surrounded by the smell of her, feeling her skin against her, knowing Jos would never hurt her. Jos’ fingers move between Tyler’s folds slowly, finding the heart of her and letting out a little gasp when she finds her warm and ready. Tyler’s echoing gasp comes as one of Jos’ fingers gently dips inside, Tyler pressing their foreheads together as her eyes fall closed. 

Jos kisses the apples of her cheeks as she leans her head back, watching Tyler’s face as she slips another finger inside her. Tyler’s hands tighten slightly on Jos’ cheeks, her face flushing beautifully. Jos kisses her again as she starts to move her fingers within her, looking for that spot. When she finds it Tyler gasps out loud, a moan swallowed up by Jos’ lips. Jos brings her thumb to Tyler’s clit and the other woman almost keens, her back arching off the bed roll. 

“Jos.” It’s a breath, a moan, a plea. 

Jos moves her fingers in and out of Tyler as her thumb brushes against her clit, moving closer until Tyler’s leg slots comfortably between her own. Tyler can feel her, warm even through the blanket, against her thigh. Part of her recognizes as Jos begins to roll her hips, but then her mind is wiped blank as Jos continues the rhythmic movement of her fingers inside of Tyler. Jos slips her arm behind Tyler’s shoulders, pulling her tighter against her, until Jos’ other arm is almost trapped between the two of them. 

Tyler lets out a low moan as Jos’ fingers increase their pace, each brush of Jos’ thumb against her clit sending waves of pleasure through Tyler’s body. Jos’ lips return to Tyler’s neck, Tyler’s hands still cupping her cheeks as Jos rocks against her. Both of their breaths are growing deeper and Tyler can feel sweat beading at her back before it slides down her skin. Her whole body feels like it’s pulled tight, her chest threatening to burst at the hammering of her heart. 

Jos’ hand continues to move as her lips suck lazily at Tyler’s skin, and Tyler can feel herself growing overwhelmed. Everything is soft, warm  _ pleasure _ and Tyler feels her body twisting and arching below Jos’. The other woman moves with her, drawing both of them closer and closer to the edge. The air feels thick in her lungs, all Tyler can smell is sunshine and Jos, their sweat mingling in the freshness of the morning air. Tyler doesn’t know how much more her body can take, how she can feel this good for much longer and expect to live. 

“Tyler.” Jos’ voice is a whisper against her skin, and it sends a shiver down Tyler’s whole body. 

She comes with a gasp, her back arching and her hands tightening on Jos’ cheeks. The other woman kisses her chin gently as Tyler clenches around the fingers inside of her, feeling safe and held. Jos rocks her hips a few more times and then comes as well, burying her face in Tyler’s shoulder. Both of them are left breathing heavily as the waves of their orgasms begin to ebb, wrapped around each other tightly. The pain in Tyler’s hands is forgotten, the sharpness made smooth with Jos’ kind touch. 

Tyler’s hands fall from Jos’ cheeks, moving over her shoulders and into Jos’ curls, wrapping around her back and pulling her closer. Jos kisses her cheeks lazily, moving to cover Tyler’s lips with her own. They’re both too breathless for long kisses, but Tyler melts against her as they both come down. Jos’ fingers slowly slip out from inside of her, wiped clean on the blanket before her arm is wrapping around Tyler’s back and drawing her closer. Their foreheads rest together as their breathing starts to slow, chests rising and falling together. 

“Jos.” Tyler’s voice is still rough from underuse, the name a whisper between them. 

Jos pulls her closer, settling her face into Tyler’s neck, below her chin before answering. “Tyler.”

Tyler knows there’s more, but like so many times before she leaves the words unsaid. Jos’ hand moves over her back gently, the soft caress so very different from the lash biting against her skin. Tyler feels tears at the corners of her eyes as she takes in a deep breath, Jos’ exhale moving over the skin of her chest. She’s safe. She’s loved. 

She’s alive. 


End file.
